


fill the silence with your words (if only for a moment)

by catacoons



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Eating Disorder, Other, Self-Harm, i think that's it..
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:25:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2167449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catacoons/pseuds/catacoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just a little thing i did<br/>was feeling kinda down<br/>mmmm yea</p>
            </blockquote>





	fill the silence with your words (if only for a moment)

       Quiet. It was all I wanted. It was the still of night and even then, things weren't quiet enough for me. I ponder the thought of purchasing earplugs, but dismiss it as I slip from my covers. My bed creaks, as it usually does. Sighing silently, I creep through the halls and up the stairs, past the entryway and the kitchen. I wonder for a moment if I'd like a snack, I hadn't eaten much since my early lunch, only half of a granola bar. I decided against it, though; too much noise, might wake someone up.

 

       Not that I was trying to starve myself like I basically had the past few months, I ate often enough... just not as much anymore. Still, I hate my body. Continuing up another flight, I wince as they creak under my weight. /'See, you're still too fat, you'll never be good enough'/ The thought is from no where, though I silently agree as I finish going up, pausing in front of the bathroom door. This was the one with the tub, also away from everyone since my parents were gone for the weekend. My younger sibling was next door, though I knew she was a heavy sleeper. Noiselessly opening the door, I flip on the lights and squint against the bright yellow that floods my vision. Blinking for a moment, I sigh happily as I flick through the cupboards, nearly knocking a few things out as I rifle about, but finally find the small case hidden in the back.

 

       It was a small, thin black plastic case, one that came from a set of dolls my mother got. It couldn't hold much, if anything really, but it held all I needed to carry on. Carefully flipping open the little briefcase, I smile lightly, gently pulling one of the blades from it. I gently run my finger along the side of it, clasping the side opposite the sharp end in-between two fingers as I admire it's silver shine.

 

       Pausing for a moment, I consider whether or not to go fully in the shower, or if the sink would do this time. It'd been a while since my wrist had it's turn to turn crimson, anyways; my inner thighs had been given quite the battering lately. I nod to myself as I shut the door, blocking out the rest of the world for a moment.

 

       It occurs to me then, that things seem completely silent. I bask in it for but a moment, humming quietly as I prepare for myself. I set out a bit of rubbing alcohol, some gauze and medical tape, a glass of water and two painkillers. Settling down on the floor, I pull back my sweater sleeves, tracing over the old, faded scars. It was good I'd collected so many bracelets, wrist-cuffs, slap-bands and long-sleeved shirts or jackets to cover the ones I couldn't hide behind pants or even shorts. Didn't want people to worry, I guessed- not like anyone would, really. No one paid enough attention to me, let alone care enough to even ask how I am.

 

       Taking the blade in a tighter grip, I gently press it against my skin, not moving it, letting myself relax against the feeling of the cool metal against my wrist. Glancing down to make sure I wouldn't run over any old scars, I press down a bit harder and move it in a slightly unsteady line across my arm, continuing to make the shallow cuts in a neat row.

 

       After three, I begin to wonder why I do this, but brush it away and bask in the glow of the relief. After seven, I question how many more I could make. At ten, I stop, thinking about many cuts I have, if they're more than fifty, seventy five, a hundred? /'Probably no more than fifty, though.'/ I decide before making a few more. Twelve lightly dotted red lines (and one deeper, redder one,) make their way up my forearm, slowly beginning to take up somewhere between 1/3 to 1/2 of the space there.

 

       I smile down at them and clasp the blade in my hand, cautious not to slice my palm. I hold it to my chest, leaning my head back. With eyes closed and a smile playing at my lips, I sigh into the room, all the pain and stress and worry washing away for a moment. I let myself sit there, not realizing when I'd opened my eyes and was staring at my slightly-paling skin, before getting up and starting the water, running my wrist underneath.

 

       It stung a bit, and I frowned. This was my least favorite part of the whole ordeal, washing it away. It got rid of all the dark red, bubbled like dew on leaves atop my arm, a sight so beautiful to me. It rid me of the happy feeling I had, the sting of rubbing them and the burn of the alcohol cleaning them, the uncomfortable, suffocating feeling of the bandages wrapped around my arm. I picked up the blade and washed off the blood carefully, dousing it in the rubbing alcohol to clean it fully. Letting it dry for a moment before popping it back in the case with the few extras I had, I sat myself on the closed toilet seat and thought.

 

       After a while, I open the door and see one of my cats staring up at me curiously. Flicking off the lightswitch, I kneel down and scratch their head gently, petting their ears and fluffing their fur for a moment before heading downstairs, she trailing behind me. I laugh quietly and lay down on my bed again, feeling mildly content. It's then I hear my phone buzzing, and let it be, Probably just a text. When it continues to buzz I carefully reach over and grab it, not bothering to look at the caller ID. "Hello?"

 

       "Hey, babe." The voice says softly, a sad lilt to it. "Mm?" I hum in question, my eyebrows raising a bit.

 

       "You know I love you, right, hun?"

 

Smiling and letting out a small sigh, I reply,

 

       "I know."


End file.
